Friday, August 10, 2012

Weekly Wordzzle Challenge #211

OK... I guess my break is over and I'll give wordzzles another try, though I don't know how much longer I want to sustain being the one and only wordzzler. After almost a year of telling the Paragon of Virtue's story, I will have to rediscover how to do random paragraphs. I have written stuff. Not that thrilled with it. I do kind of like the mini, but the first one needs work that I'm too lazy to do. Sorry. Words for this week's 10-word challenge were: existence, imagination, ferocious, dripping, ribbon, aging, operation, seven, art, entranceAnd for the mini: sweltering,distinguished, discomfort, spread, blossomMy mega: Sitting in the sweltering school gymnasium - which at the present moment was functioning as an art gallery for the state's annual FUTURE ARTISTS competition - seven-year-old Amanda Blossom squirmed with discomfort that was a mix of boredom, dripping persperation and anxiety. The sudden hush which spread through the crowd's chatter announced the entrance of the panel of distinguished judges who would be reviewing the paintings and selecting this year's winners. Amanda's parents - one sitting on each side of her - each grasped a hand and watched anxiously as the judges made their rounds. An eclectic group of artists and critics, the judging panel was headed by an aging sculptor known for his passionate opinions. When they arrived in front of Amanda's painting, he gasped and said in a loud voice, "EXQUISITE! Such craft! Such imagination! Such use of color! Who is the artist? Bring him to me!" As Amanda and her parents came forward, his beaming smile turned to a frown and he declared with a ferocious snarl, "Nonsense. No child that young could have painted such a complex work." "But I did paint it," Amanda said with a ferocity that matched the old man's. "I did. And I have more. I like to paint and you're mean." Taken aback, the old man's face softened a bit. "Alright then, young lady, tell me about your painting. What made you choose these colors? And this," he said, pointing to a ribbon of green paint in one corner of the canvas, "why did you put that there?" "It's hard to explain," the child replied, "It's as close as I could come to what the Angel's showed me during my operation. They kept me company, you know, while the doctors fixed my heart. They were so kind and beautiful. I couldn't really get it right, but this was the best I could do." A tear running down his cheek, the old man, knelt down and looked into the girls eyes. "I apologize, my dear. It is clear that this is your own work. I too met those angels many years ago but until today had been persuaded to doubt their existence. Thank you for giving me back that faith. Your talent is remarkable. I don't know about my fellow judges here, but in my book you are the winner. I wonder... would you be willing to sell me this painting?" Looking at her parents, he whispered, "I imagine you have some medical bills that need payment. I would consider whatever payments you have left to be an acceptable price." Amanda smiled. "That would be very nice, I think. Thank you, sir." My mini: Alfonso Ambergris, did not mind the sweltering heat, the mosquitoes or the dangerous snakes and spiders all around him. A huge euphoric grin had spread across his face and the pain and discomfort of his aching muscles dropped away as he distinguished first the tell-tale aroma and then the unique color of the blossom he had come seeking. He had found the legendary Aztec Orchid and it was as beautiful as the stories had led him to believe. Whether or not it would bring him eternal life, he did not know, but surely it would bring him fame and fortune, which was almost as good.And the 10-word:Although aging had not diminished the existence of Augusta's ferocious imagination, three strokes and seven operations had hampered her ability to transfer her art - her vision - from her brain to the canvas, as evidenced by the dripping ribbons of paint on her clothing, the floor and the canvas itself. But Augusta was a survivor and a woman of boundless creativity. Aggravated at first by the unwanted drips and drops, she eventually became entranced by the challenge of how to use them to her advantage. Inspiration did not come as quickly at 80 as it had when she was in her 20s, but eventually the Eureka moment came and her new style was born. What had begun as "accidental" paintings, tweaked and nurtured and crafted by her loving eye, eventually became some of her best and most famous works. Always loving a good pun, she called them the "Strokes of Genius" collection. And they were just that.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About Me

I'm 70 years old going on twelve or sometimes 6, it depends on the day. Then again, sometimes I feel like I'm 110. I'm agoraphobic, permanently disabled. I live an odd life, but a relatively happy one. I have two cats, Merlin and Melissa. They are brother and sister and therefore known (it's a joke) as The Twins. They were 3 years old on May 7th.